


you're the king and baby i'm the queen (of disaster)

by brophigenia



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Car Sex, Cunnilingus, F/F, HOEseph kavinsky, Joseph Kavinsky is His Own Warning, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, always-a-cis-girl!Kavinsky, always-a-cis-girl!Prokopenko, butch lesbian joseph kavinsky, hints of ronan lynch/joseph kavinsky, mentions of original!proko's death, or should i say, they're lesbians harold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 23:23:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15695478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brophigenia/pseuds/brophigenia
Summary: “K,” Proko hummed, and threw her one of those long-lashedLooks,the dreamiest dreamthing in all of Henrietta with her uniform skirt’s waistband rolled up until she was showing more thigh than was probably legal in the great commonwealth of Virginia.(AlwaysACisGirl!Prokopinsky, with street racing and butch lesbian K who loves her lipstick girlfriend, Proko.)





	you're the king and baby i'm the queen (of disaster)

**Author's Note:**

> I am the bi-est bitch in the whole fucking world and I've got a stomach virus so here, have some lesbeans.

“K,” Proko hummed, and threw her one of those long-lashed  _ Looks,  _ the dreamiest dreamthing in all of Henrietta with her uniform skirt’s waistband rolled up until she was showing more thigh than was probably legal in the  _ great  _ commonwealth of Virginia. 

Johanna Kavinsky slid a greedy hand up between those thighs, the other curled around the steering wheel. Proko twisted her hips and pouted and sighed when she didn’t immediately go knuckles-deep with three fingers and instead just traced delicately with the flats of her bitten-short nails over where she was hot and wet and ready.

(She was  _ always  _ hot and wet and ready; what was the point of replacing your dead best friend with a magic fembot android if you couldn’t upgrade her a little?) 

“Yeah, what do you want, baby?” K purred nastily, nasally, baring her teeth. Proko laughed, and leaned over the gearshift to nuzzle K’s neck the same way the real Proko used to, back before she was a moldering corpse buried in the abandoned lot behind the cannery. 

“I want you to  _ fuck  _ me,” Proko breathed, hot and moist, in K’s ear, nibbling at the pierced lobe. “So bad, K.” 

“You’re such a  _ whore,”  _ K giggled, and squeezed firmly at the crux of her thighs, grinding her palm against Proko’s clit before she pulled her hand away. She could see Lynch’s Beemer up ahead. 

Proko settled back into her seat with a snarl, displeased. Jealous the same way the old Proko had been, which had always been an ego boost and now helped her sleep better at night. If Dream Proko got jealous over her then she had  _ some  _ measure of freewill, right? 

“Lynch!” K bellowed out the window, grinning. In the rear view mirror she was as skinny and gawky as ever, bony where Lynch was  _ muscled,  _ thin where Lynch was  _ leonine,  _ fucked up where Lynch was  _ damaged.  _ But they were the same underneath; the scars on Lynch’s corded forearms attested to that. Goddesses,  _ fuck.  _ Fuck, yeah. 

Lynch flipped her off. “C’mon  _ Roisin,”  _ K drawled, affecting an Irish accent. “Didn’t your mommy teach you better manners?” Proko was laughing now, lighting up a cigarette and crossing her long legs daintily even as she buckled her seatbelt. It was a habit that K had ingrained in her purposefully— she’d not lose her dreamthing the same way she’d lost the original Ilana Prokopenko, flying headfirst out of the front windshield on drunken impact with a cement guardrail. 

Lynch revved her engine. K could practically smell her fury. It had her pussy getting wet and she nodded down at her lap purposefully, never taking her eyes off the traffic light about to turn green. “Take care of that, baby girl,” she instructed, and when she laid into the gas pedal it was with Proko’s fingers inside her panties, inside her  _ cunt.  _ The building rush of her orgasm was only made better by the roar of the Mitsu’s engine and the whoosh of her blood thundering in her ears. 

She was going to  _ win.  _

Fuck yes.  _ Fuck  _ yes. 

Lynch fell back, just a bit. Just enough. Proko twisted her wrist. They flew across the designated finish line and K came then, her vision blacking out as her body shook, hands and feet working under muscle memory to control the fishtailing spin of the Evo, tires screaming and maybe K screaming too, but in exhilarated joy, triumph, victory. Fuck.  _ Fuck  _ yes. 

“My good luck charm,” K said, and then had Proko with her legs sprawled wide, her back against the passenger window and her thigh tossed over K’s shoulder and her cunt in K’s  _ face.  _ Proko tasted the same as she did when she was alive. It had been the first time K had ever fucked a girl, after a couple years of ill-advised adolescent fuckery with whatever man would have her. Her hair had been long then, and she’d sucked a lot of dick. She’d still been going by  _ Johanna,  _ for fuck’s sake. 

Now she was  _ K, _ with her hair buzzed short on the sides and her lackluster heterosexual past in the dust behind her, along with all the bodies she’d left in her wake. 

Proko was crying with how good it was, jammed up uncomfortably but her pleasure all the more potent for it, fingers scrabbling for purchase on K’s hair, shoulders, anywhere she could reach. 

“K, K, K,” she sobbed. “Please please please—“ 

“Say it,” K mumbled, and then went back to applying enough suction to probably give Proko’s clit a hickey, if erectile tissue was capable of it. 

(She  _ did  _ pay attention in bio class, especially the days they talked about  _ the female anatomy.  _ It had been glorious, getting to make theatrical orgasm noises from the back of the assembly hall, draped all over her girls and watching Rachel Gansey III blush like a fucking fire engine, like she’d never heard a girl cum before.) 

“Jo, Jo,  _ Jo, _ make me cum, please—“ and K hummed, because while that was  _ cute, _ it wasn’t quite was she was looking for and Proko knew it. She tasted like fucking  _ strawberries.  _ “Yours, yours, K, I’m yours—“ and  _ that _ did it, so K grinned and applied some  _ teeth,  _ a hard ridge of  _ ohgod _ against the ridge of pubic bone just to the left of Proko’s clit, the spot where she liked it a little rough. 

Proko came with a pornstar moan, chest heaving and hands shaking. It was fucking pretty. K kissed the inside of her thigh and then sat back up. 

Lynch’s BMW was parked haphazardly only about ten yards away; Lynch’s cheeks were blood red and her eyes were wide. Her jaw was clenched. 

K grinned at her, and licked her lips, showy and mean. She blew a kiss, and then Lynch seemed to come back to herself, mouthing  _ fuck you  _ before she was speeding away. 

“You’re such a fucking cunt,” Proko accused languidly, and lit another cigarette. She flipped down the mirror so she could reapply her lipstick in two neat swipes. She owned more lipstick than anyone K ever knew; her dorm room desk was cluttered with the little tubes, some bought and some shoplifted and some Dreamt-up, glow in the dark and color changing and sparkly. 

“Your fucking cunt,” K replied nonsensically, and grinned. 

It was a good night already, and it wasn’t even midnight yet. She threw her arm over Proko’s shoulders and drew her in close as she drove off, roaring down the sleepy Henrietta streets looking for trouble. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me @ brophigenia.tumblr.com


End file.
